


No Soft Lights to Enchant Me

by bittereloquence



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableist Language, Anal Fingering, Drunken One-Night Stands, Everyone is in love with Peggy Carter, Gratuitous Amounts of Headcanon, Internalized Homophobia, Jack Thompson should be his own trigger warning, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Series Spoilers, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3557909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittereloquence/pseuds/bittereloquence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Daniel Sousa had an ounce of common sense he would have just walked away when he saw a very drunk Jack Thompson carrying Dooley's personal effects out of the office. Instead, he opts to be the better man and discovers things he never wanted to know about Thompson and himself in the process?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Nearness of You

**Author's Note:**

> My obligatory contribution to the JackDaniels community. It's filled with angst, self-hate and all sorts of unhappiness. If you're looking for fluffy JackDaniels then I fear this probably isn't your cup of tea. But I do come bearing filthy, filthy porn instead? It is complete but it's kind of long so I'm splitting up up over multiple chapters! The title of course comes from the classic song "The Nearness of You" which I highly recommend checking out if you get an opportunity. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within, nor am I making any money off of this story. All I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head. 
> 
> My eternal love goes out to the peerless [wyntirrose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntirrose/pseuds/wyntirrose) for shamelessly enabling and holding my hand throughout this entire fic.

_I need no soft lights to enchant me_  
_If you'll only grant me the right_  
_To hold you ever so tight_  
_And to feel in the night_  
_the nearness of you._

* * *

 

Daniel had sworn to himself that he would keep his cool. That he wouldn't let Jack Thompson's selfish actions today get the best of him because if he lost his temper then he knew there was a good chance he might just knock the man's head off his shoulders.

The sad truth of the matter was, he loved his job and needed it. There weren’t too many job opportunities for a man missing half a leg in a workforce glutted with hale and hearty men who were returning from war. So if he knocked Thompson’s block off, there was a good chance he’d be out of a job. It grated on his pride, especially after the way the jerk had selfishly taken all the credit for the hard work they’d put into the Leviathan case.

All of _Peggy’s_ hard work because without her their goose would have been well and truly cooked which was something Jack just blithely ignored when he strutted up to the senator like the vain peacock that he was and took all the credit. Never mind the fact that without her they’d have been scratching their heads wondering why hundreds of thousands of people were dead and without any real leads as to the culprits of the crime. Leviathan would have gotten off scot-free.

Sousa was okay with not getting his fair share of the credit mainly because he considered his contribution to the case to be minimal at best. Sure, he had tracked down the illusive blonde only for it to prove to be Carter who had been running her own investigation the whole time. Aside from chasing a red herring and saving Jack Thompson’s life—hardly a meritorious feat all things considered—he didn’t consider his contribution to the Leviathan investigation to be of much merit.

He just hated to see Peggy’s part in it downplayed to nothing because as she had said, the S.S.R. was bad about acknowledging hers or any woman’s value to the agency. And it was a crying shame because as far as Daniel was concerned, the past five years had proven without a shadow of a doubt that women were more than capable of holding their own in the workforce. They had more value than just wives and homemakers and he knew in his heart of hearts that the world was going to have to accept that fact sooner rather than later because more and more women were stepping forward and saying they were not content to be relegated to the home any more.

It was perhaps a radical way of thinking but he’d thought Thompson had begun to realize Peggy’s capabilities at least extended beyond that of being just ‘Captain America’s girlfriend’ but if Jack’s actions today were anything to go by, maybe he’d been wrong. That borderline duplicitous attitude disgusted Sousa and he’d made no effort to hide that throughout the day.

After the Thompson had finished glad-handing the senator and his lackeys, things had been off balance in the office. Or at least it had felt that way to Daniel. Maybe he was simply simmering over Thompson and his own somewhat disastrous attempt at asking Peggy Carter out for drinks after work but Sousa had been more withdrawn than normal.

Once the work-day was over, Thompson had ‘generously’ offered to take everyone on the day shift out for celebratory drinks but Daniel had no taste for it or sitting around listening to Thompson’s self-congratulatory anecdotes so he had begged off. Instead, he’d offered to cover the phones and put in a few more hours so some of the night shift people could enjoy the celebrations as well. The sad fact of the matter was, he didn’t have anything waiting for him back home but his tiny shoebox of an apartment. He’d have just sat there staring at the walls simmering in his own juices so at least at work he could accomplish something productive.

These days, he barely slept more than three or four hours anyways because that was about the most he could manage before the discomfort of the phantom sensations in his leg got to be too much or the nightmares sent him jolting into wakefulness. Daniel had spent countless nights since he’d returned home waking up at some ungodly hour of the morning convinced he was back on the Front and facing imminent attack from some faceless Jerry. Following those far too vivid dreams, the need to check every window and the locks on his door, to run a _patrol_ was almost overpowering.

People thought Daniel Sousa was just driven to perform on the job and that was why he was prone to showing up early and work ungodly hours but the truth of the matter was, he just wanted to avoid his depressing apartment and his bed. At least if he worked himself to the point of exhaustion he might stand a better chance of sleeping through the night or getting a few extra hours of blissful uninterrupted sleep.

It made him popular with the fellas because he was more willing to take or extra shifts cover which helped in part to raise his own value in the office even though he knew most of the guys still looked at him and all they saw was a crip.

Dooley at least had seen beyond that and had valued Daniel’s instincts and capabilities. The Chief might not have been a perfect man but he’d been a good one. And now they were stuck with the likes of Jack Thompson as acting interim Chief until Washington sent them someone new to take over.

Daniel could only pray to God that there was some modicum of justice in the universe and that they **would** send one rather than making Jack’s interim position permanent. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to work under the man directly. To give credit where it was due, Thompson had done a good job of holding down the fort while Dooley had been in Germany but Sousa doubted he had the skills to keep the office together in a long-term basis.

At least that was his thinking on the matter but considering a US Senator had come parading into the office eager to kiss Jack Thompson’s ass, maybe he was just biased and or fooling himself on the intelligence of his superiors. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen superior officers make chicken-shit decisions and it wouldn’t be the last. His time in the Army at least had helped inure him somewhat to that level of stupidity.

It was hours before he heard the elevator ding, signaling that some of the fellas from the night shift had finally come from the bar. Daniel was privately worried some of them might have over-indulged but they seemed relatively sober so he started to clear off his desk and stored his active case-files in the locked drawer in his desk. Sousa was just slipping on his jacket when he saw a rather inebriated looking Jack Thompson walk somewhat unsteadily through the doors of the office.

“I thought you went home.” Really, he should have known better than to open his mouth but Daniel couldn’t help himself apparently. Thompson just offered him a sloppy looking smile and stumbled to Dooley’s office.

“I forgot somethin’ s’all,” the blond mumbled more to himself than to Daniel’s query.

Sousa just shot his coworkers a ‘what the hell’ look and they could only shrug helplessly and busied themselves with working. There was plenty to do now that the Leviathan case was coming to a close.

Sousa shook his head in obvious disgust and shot a questioning look towards the glass walls of Dooley’s office. Well, no, he supposed it was Thompson’s office for now at least. Jack looked to be packing up Dooley’s things which seemed pretty freakin’ disrespectful to Daniel but when he made a move to ask him what the hell he was doing; Reese just shook his head silently and went back to yakking on the phone.

Obviously he’d missed something at the after-hours bullshitting session. It took a depressingly short amount of time to strip Dooley’s office bare of his personal items and they all seemed to fit neatly into a box which was a sobering testament to the man’s mark on the agency when you thought about it. Of course, Daniel suspected if he got hit by a truck going home like Yauch then his personal effects wouldn’t even fill up a quarter of a box so it was all a matter of perspective.

Thompson stepped out of the office carrying that box of personal effects and managed to walk in a mostly straight line out the doors again. “Right, I’ll see you fellas later,” Sousa muttered under his breath and limped out the door after Thompson, his crutch making a rhythmic sort of thump against the tiled floor with each step.

As he’d half expected, there Jack was stumped at the elevator because his alcohol soaked brain apparently couldn’t balance holding the box steady and pressing the button at the same time.

“Christ, Thompson, you’re a mess, you know that?” Daniel grumbled and reached around the blond so he could press the button. “This couldn’t wait till morning when you’re sober?” Irritation made his tone sharper than he’d intended. But instead of snapping back at him, Jack just sort of looked down at the box he was carrying uncomfortable.

“They want me to tell Dooley’s family. Apparently no one notified them yet and since I’m the interim Chief, that duty falls to me.” Thompson smiled but it was a bitter mockery of the expression and more grimace than actual smile. Those blue eyes were surprisingly clear considering the amount of alcohol he’d obviously imbibed because Daniel could smell the whiskey practically wafting from him. “S’what Senator Cooper wanted to talk to me about today. No rest for the wicked I suppose.”

“Oh.” Sousa found he was stunned speechless for a moment. The elevator thankfully saved him from having to make any further comment by opening its doors in that moment. He waited for Thompson to enter then moved to stand next to him closest to the panel so he could operate the buttons. Once the door closed and they were in the relative privacy of the car, Daniel slanted a shuttered look over at Thompson. “Don’t do it tonight. You can’t show up on their doorstep three-sheets to the wind and tell them Dooley is dead. It’s not right.”

Thompson shot him an unfriendly, mulish look and opened his mouth to argue but Daniel just pressed ahead.

“How can you look his kids, hell his _wife_ in the eye and tell her how he died if your brain is too pickled by booze to get the facts straight? They deserve better than that, Jack.”

An unnameable series of emotions flickered across the blond man’s face before his shoulders slumped tiredly. “Don’t know what the hell I’m going to tell them anyway. How do you tell a family their father or husband died like that? Because we fucked up royally and let Leviathan pull the wool so far over our eyes we couldn’t see what was right in front of us?” It was obvious a question he’d been chewing on for a while if the tired anger in Jack’s tone was anything to go by.

“I don’t know, Thompson. Didn’t they teach you that stuff in officer’s school?” It was a bit of a low blow but Sousa wasn’t feeling very charitable. And dealing with the Jack Thompson pity party wasn’t high on his list of plans for the evening.

The girls in the phone company were still hard at work at the storefront that masked the S.S.R.’s true purpose and they barely paid the two men any mind as they exited into the switchboard room. Their presence seemed to shut Jack up for the moment either because he didn’t want to talk about S.S.R. business or probably more accurately, he discounted them as being women and therefore not worthy of being privy to that information despite them being S.S.R. agents in their own rights.

Jack waited until they were out on the street, his own unsteady gait keeping surprisingly even pace with Daniel’s hobbling either through happenstance or design. “I never really had to do that. I was just a junior officer so that sort of thing always fell to the CO. I have no clue how I’m supposed to do this, Sousa.”

Daniel refused to feel sorry for Thompson even if the haunted look in those blue eyes combined with the tired body language made it pretty hard not to. He knew this was really just Thompson feeling sorry for _himself_ rather than Dooley or about the situation. Not surprising considering none of them had been home in over two days so far.

“You wait until you’re sober, have three cups of coffee in you and you don’t look like a bum who stepped in off the street for one thing.” Sousa gestured to indicate Thompson’s somewhat haphazard appearance. He probably had two days-worth of stubble dotting his jaw, the top two buttons of his shirt and tie were undone and his suit was wrinkled as hell.

“Heh, right. Whatever would I do without you to mother hen me, Sousa.” Jack snorted and shook his head in obvious exasperation. Sousa was tempted to just leave it there and make his way to the subway station but the sight of Thompson standing there looking a little bit lost and a lot drunk prevailed upon his better nature. He should have just gone but even though he couldn’t stand Thompson half the time, he’d feel mighty guilty if the man did something stupid like step off a curb drunk like Yauch had done and got hit by a truck.

“Come on, let’s get you a damned taxi.” Sousa was able to flag one down readily enough much to Thompson’s obvious drunken amusement. This wasn’t exactly helping his assertion about Daniel ‘mother hening him’ “Don’t even say it, Thompson,” He muttered and nudged the other man into the taxi before climbing in himself. Sure, he could have ended his self-appointed duty to see Thomson safely home right then and there by getting him to the taxi but knowing his luck; he’d probably trip up the stairs and break his neck or something. “Give him your address, Thompson.”

The still smirking blond man told the taxi driver his address and sort of melted back into the seat, head lolling back in that boneless manner all drunks seemed to manage. “You’re worried about me, aren’t you? It’s kinda cute.”

“Don’t be a jackass, after what happened to Yauch, the last thing any of us need is losing anyone else to an intoxicated run-in with a moving vehicle.” The sad fact of the matter was, no one even suspected the truth about Yauch’s death or that Ivchenko had manipulated his death.

That at least seemed to take some of wind from Jack’s sails because that smug smile melted away and he lapsed into blessed silence for a few minutes, no doubt continuing on with his self-pitying thoughts from before. Daniel wasn’t keen on trying to carry on inane conversation so he lapsed into silence himself and spent the time looking out the window as Manhattan after dark passed by outside.

The city had found new life once the war had ended and money started flooding back into the economy. Daniel saw more than a few soldiers in uniform no doubt left over from the V-E celebration the previous day. Though by now, those crisp uniforms looked a little lived in a bit less neat. A cynical part of Sousa wondered how many of the people parading about in uniform had already been cashed out and just took to wearing it to share in the attention of the day and to make use of the good-will the city showed their boys in uniform right now on this momentous anniversary of the victory in Europe.

Probably more than a few, some trying to cling to the glory they’d won in the war and probably a dozen other reasons only God himself could make heads or tails of. Still, the bars were obviously have a grand time if the crowds were anything to go by. Maybe if Daniel had been in the celebrating mood he’d be down there with them drowning his sorrows in a bottle but instead he was ferrying his drunk co-worker home instead.

Truth be told, he didn’t know what that said about him.

When he glanced over at Thompson, the blond man’s eyes were closed seemingly passed out which was fine by Daniel. Soon enough however, the taxi was pulling into a less savory sort of neighborhood near Hell’s Kitchen. Truthfully, Daniel expected Jack to live in a nicer sort of neighbor considering the airs the other man put on but maybe, like Daniel, he didn’t see the need to spend a lot of money on apartment they wouldn’t see a whole lot of use. The S.S.R. took up a lot of time and was rarely your typical nine to five job. And for men like Sousa and Thompson who didn’t have a family waiting at home demanding normal business hours, they tended to float all over the place as far as hours went.

Not to mention cases could keep them up for all hours of the night chasing down leads or trying to dig their way through the seedy underbelly of the city which often only came out in force at night. Once the taxi rolled to a stop, Daniel reached over and poked Thomson in the side.

“Wake up and pay the man, Jack,” Sousa ordered somewhat brusquely and opened the door so he could slide out. Thompson made a show of thumbing through his wallet and his money before sliding the driver enough money to pay the fare.

“You staying or coming up, Sousa?” Jack asked, barely even slurring over his words now but climbing out of the taxi proved to be somewhat problematic and he very nearly fell trying to maneuver both the box and his inebriated body out of the cab.

“Christ, I’ve already come this far, no sense in leaving you to pass out on the stairs or fall and break your skull open.” The dark-haired man braced himself against his crutch for leverage and reached down to grip Jack firmly under the arm so he could haul him to his feet.

“You’re a real pal, ya see that? My buddy cares enough to show me to the door like a real gentleman.” Thompson seemed to find this hilarious as he spoke to the rather exasperated taxi driver.

“Whatever, pal.” In typical New York surliness, the cab driver couldn’t care less and as soon as the door was closed behind Jack he was pulling away from the curb and off hunting his next fare.


	2. That Old Black Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: The same warnings as chapter one apply. There will be period accurate racial slurs, homophobic and abelist language. I strive to maintain a realistic interpretation of the era without romanticizing things or the timeline. So please keep that in mind while reading it.

  
_I should stay away but what can I do_  
_I hear your name, and I'm aflame_  
_Aflame with such a burning desire_  
_That only your kiss can put out the fire_

* * *

Standing alone on the empty sidewalk with Thompson, Daniel had to bite the inside of his cheek to fight back a comment about how he and Jack Thompson being _anything_ but friends. It wouldn’t accomplish anything because he knew the futility of trying to argue with drunken people. He kept his firm grip on Jack’s arm and halfway frog-marched him up the stairs of the building’s landing. The neighborhood was definitely lacking but at least the building seemed to have a locking door, though the metal over the glass definitely brought its effectiveness into question.

Thompson had to pat down three sets of pockets before he found his keys and ended up halfway shoving the box at Daniel so he could work the lock. Sousa shot him a dirty look but held onto to the box of personal effects more out of a sense of respect for Dooley than anything else. The moment the door was open however, he shoved it back at Thompson because it was his damned duty and because it felt pretty weird holding a dead man’s things. Daniel could see personal photos of Dooley’s family shifting back and forth at the top of the pile and it felt almost unbearably intimate; like he was prying into the privacy of the man. That was even ignoring the fact that he was dead and wouldn’t notice or mind.

Maybe that was why Jack had gotten so drunk? Because he found the contents of the box just as unnerving as Daniel did? He felt a little odd making _excuses_ for Thompson even if it was in the safety of his own head. “What floor are you on?”

“Sixth. Sorry, there’s no lift.” Of course there wasn’t. This building looked like it was from the previous century at least and shitty apartment complexes in Hell’s Kitchen weren’t exactly known for their amenities like modern elevators. Daniel’s leg was beginning to ache just thinking about wrestling Thompson up six flights of stairs. He had enough trouble navigating the three flights of stairs in his apartment building and there, he did have to worry about dealing with a drunken co-worker careening into him.

Mentally saying a prayer to Heaven that he made it out of this without breaking his own damned fool neck, Daniel used the grip he still had on Thompson’s arm to steer him towards the first flight of stairs. “Keep your free arm on the balustrade for balance, okay? I don’t want us both taking a spill down the stairs.

“Yes, sir, Agent Sousa, sir.” Thompson made an aborted attempt to try and snap off a salute but he found that arm held tightly in Sosua’s grip and about all he managed was a slightly jerky movement before being pulled up short by Sousa’s grip. He looked down at the hand and frowned at it but obviously decided it wasn’t worth arguing over. “Gonna need that arm, Sousa. You gonna let me go or hold my hand the whole way?” he asked, another smarmy attempt at a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. At heart, Jack Thompson was a bit of a bully and they both knew it. Which was why he got away with saying those sorts of outrageous things and no one blinked an eye.  
“How about I kick your ass the whole way?”

“Is that anyway to talk to a superior officer, Agent Sousa?” Even Jack was having trouble believing that if the inelegant snort that escaped him was anything to go by.

“You might be my _temporary_ boss on the clock but right now we’re just two regular Joes so don’t tempt me, Thompson or I might push you down the stairs instead of helping you up them. Now move your ass, woulda? Some of us would like to go home sometime tonight.”

The next fifteen minutes were a hellish travesty filled with abrupt stops and jerks as Sousa halfway dragged Jack up the numerous flights of stairs to his apartment. The fact that Dooley’s box of personal effects didn’t go crashing down the stairs or that they managed to get to Jack’s floor with little more than a few near misses was nothing less than a miracle. By the time they reached the blond’s door, Daniel’s leg was on fire and lines of pain could be clearly seen bracketing his mouth and in the tightly knit set of his brow.

Jack had to fumble with his keys all over again but finally, the door opened and he flicked the lights on. The apartment beyond was neater than Sousa had expected for a bachelor but obviously like himself, some semblance of military order was still bred into Jack’s bones.  
“Come in,” Thompson mumbled as he carried the box inside and moved to set it down on a nearby sideboard.

“I should really get going; surely you can find your way to bed all on your own, Jack,” Sousa tried to quip only to find himself pinned by a serious look from the other man.

“Sousa? Come off it, you’re about to fall over. Come in, take a load off and don’t try and tell me your leg isn’t killing you because I can tell by the way you’re limping that it is.”

“I always limp, Jack. Kinda comes with the territory.” He didn’t mean for that to come out so bitter. Thompson was a pain in the ass but for all his faults, he rarely made light of Sousa’s disability. Sure, he made the occasional crack but it was nowhere near as bad as some of the others. So it wasn’t exactly fair to paint him as a target for that particular bitterness. The fact of the matter was, Daniel was in pain and feeling more than a little bit mean was all.

“Still, I owe you for seeing me home. Seriously, come in and I’ll make you a drink. Consider it payment for seeing shepherding your wayward boss home for the night like a real trooper.”

The fact that he was even entertaining the idea of sitting down and sharing a drink with Jack Thompson right now considering his earlier feelings on the matter should have been preposterous. He was still sore as hell at the other man and while he might appear helpless and a little sad right now while stewing in his drunken stupor, Daniel knew Thompson would be back to being the insufferable jackass he always was come tomorrow.

Of course, on the other hand, the idea of sitting down for a while and getting off his leg sounded so damned good he was genuinely tempted. The blond must have seen the way Daniel was wavering and went in for the kill.

“Come on, Sousa. We’ll drink one in Dooley’s memory. You didn’t come down to have drinks with us earlier so you missed all the really good toasts. Dooley would have wanted that, don’t you think? Irishmen always love a good wake. It seems pretty disrespectful not to lift a glass or two in his honor.”

“Now I know you’re full of shit, Thompson.” Still, Daniel found himself limping inside and shutting the door behind him. On second thought, he locked it as well because who knew what kind of neighbors Thompson had

Jack was smiling at him, that handsome smile he broke out when dealing with the ladies or when he was trying to pour on the charm. Daniel liked to think himself immune to that charm considering he knew who the real Jack Thompson was but he did limp down the hallway and into the tiny living room. He found himself looking around and taking stock of Thompson’s home. A slightly battered, threadbare settee ate up most of the space but there were a few personal touches thrown around.

Knickknacks here and there, the type of homey touch a woman usually brought into a home which piqued Sousa’s curiosity just a little bit. He knew Jack wasn’t married but he genuinely had no idea if he had a steady gal. There were a few photos here and there which gave some interesting insight into Jack’s home. The first one he saw was a picture of Thompson in uniform, obviously the kind everyone had taken before they went off to war. In another he found a rather handsome older woman smiling back at him, the infamous Gam-Gam if he were to hazard a guess. And in another he saw a group of children including who he suspected to be a younger Jack Thompson standing with that same women in front of a building with peeling paint on the steps which would have looked at home in a dozen different parts of the city.

What surprised Daniel the most was what he didn’t see. He saw no indication of Thompson’s Navy Cross hanging on the wall with obvious pride. He’d have expected to see that piece of tin hanging at centerpiece in the man’s home. Nor did he see any pictures of people who looked young enough to be Thompson’s parents in any of the photos.

“Let me guess, Gam-Gam?” Daniel asked, cracking a small smile as he picked up the picture of the woman. The kinship was plain to see in the eyes and the pale hair though for all he knew, it could be gray instead of blond. It was hard to tell in the black and white photo.

“Damn straight. Don’t go talking shit about my Gam-Gam, Sousa. You might be a crip but I’ll have to kick your ass if you start poking fun at her. Best damned woman I ever met,” Thompson muttered the threat only halfheartedly and moved to a small table that was obviously acting like a wet bar. The bottle of Irish whiskey he pulled out was more than three-quarters empty and Daniel filed that information away without a word. “She took us in after my mom ran off, made sure we were fed, had clothes on our backs. Dad was…useless. Your typical Mick lush who was more interested in crawling into a bottle than taking care of his kids after he’d chased off his wife because he hit her one too many times.”

That…was more information than he ever wanted to know about Thompson’s childhood but he’d be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t fascinated and already putting together the pieces in his head. Was that why Thompson was so dismissive of others? Especially women? Because his mother had run off when he’d been a child and left him to the less than tender mercies of a cruel, drunken man? That certainly explained where Thompson had gotten his meanness and willingness to get dirty in the interrogation room. It didn’t excuse the way the man acted but it certainly cast a certain light on the subject.

“She sounds like a hell of a woman,” Daniel finally offered neutrally.

“The best,” Thompson repeated; the note of pride in his voice unmistakable. He was smiling as he carried two classes with him and held one out to Daniel. “She was a hell of a woman. Wouldn’t put up with any of Dad’s shit, wouldn’t let him come around when he’d been drinking and he was looking to use his fists. Hell of a woman.”

Sousa found himself becoming more and more ill at ease with this topic of conversation especially since he knew there was no way Thompson would have confided this sort of thing to him if he’d been sober. He accepted the drink and hobbled over to the settee which seemed to be the only place to sit down in the whole living area. “So she raised you and your siblings, huh? Must have been hard with the depression going on,”

God knew his family had struggled to make ends meet. But at least there had been love in Daniel’s home growing up and he’d always been safe in the knowledge that no matter how hard things got, he’d always known his parents loved him and his siblings. That no one would ever come at him with a belt and the mean need to hurt. Sure, they’d gotten their hides tanned a time or two when they’d acted up but even then, the discipline had come from a place of caring rather than cruelty. He didn’t think Thompson had had a whole lot of that; though at least he’d apparently had the saintly Gam-Gam to help shelter him from some of it.

“Sure, but everyone was struggling, yanno?” Thompson came to join him on the settee which was really more of a love-seat than a settee. The room was so tight it probably couldn’t support anything bigger than a settee. Their knees practically knocked together as Jack sprawled onto the settee and Sousa wondered if he’d realized he’d placed his Gam-Gam’s photo right in front of him so that he was bound to look at it more than anything else in the room. Somehow he didn’t think the psychological ramifications had escaped the other man. The whole set up had an almost shine-like quality to it and Daniel found himself musing whether or not the saintly Gam-Gam Thompson was still in the land of the living or not. The way Thompson talked about her in the past-tense made him think no but it was too rude a question to ask. Instead he stretched his bum leg out as far as it would go to help ease some of the pinching pressure on the prosthetic and took a sip from the glass.

The whiskey was of a much better quality than he’d been expecting but maybe Thompson enjoyed his creature comforts after all but instead chose to indulge them in nice whiskey rather than fancy digs.

Thompson’s hand landed between them on the settee and he elbowed Daniel lightly in the side. “I’ll bet you did too, right? How long has it been since your family came off the boat from Portugal? One generation? Two?”

Daniel slanted a vaguely disbelieving look over at the blond. “Surely you realize how wildly insulting you’re being right now, correct?”

Thompson rolled his eyes heavenward and just huffed. “I’m being serious, you know my story it’s only fair you share a little bit about the Sousa family.”

He was tempted to say he didn’t owe Jack anything but that would probably just escalate things into a fight and his leg was finally calming down to a less agonizing state. “I’m second generation. My grandparents immigrated separately and met up in Boston. She came from money, he worked as a clerk in one of her father’s warehouses and suffice to say, they scandalized everyone by falling in love and getting married in secret.” It was more than he’d planned on sharing but he knew there was a certain romanticism in the tale of how his avós had met and fell in love.

“Aw, that’s actually kinda sweet, Sousa.” Thompson was smiling at him now and for once it seemed genuine rather than just another ploy on his part.

“Laugh it up, Jack.” Daniel of course suspiciously took it to be meant sarcastic.

“No, I’m serious. It’s sweet, kinda like some modern day Romeo and Juliet.” Jack’s hand fumbled up and closed over Daniel’s forearm and he squeezed it lightly as though trying to convey his sincerity. “It’s also disgustingly wholesome just like I’d expect from you.”

Sousa had to stop mid-sip to process that rather outrageous statement and the fact that Thompson’s hand hadn’t moved off of his forearm yet. A dark sort of suspicion was starting to form at the back of his mind but he didn’t know what to think of that because surely he was wrong. Jack Thompson was a ladies man who had a dozen stories about the dames he took out about town. Sure, there was no sign of a steady woman in this tiny apartment of his outside of Gam-Gam but that didn’t mean anything.

Thompson’s hand practically seemed to burn like a brand against his arm the longer he kept it there.

“You’re so upstanding and good, it practically makes me _want_ to muss you up just to see if you’re really human underneath all that ridiculous forthrightness,” Jack murmured, taking a large swallow from his glass. Yes, this conversation was taking a turn for the bizarre and Daniel wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Jack…I think you’ve had enough to drink. You’re not making a whole lot of sense.” He nobly tried to give the other man that out and silently urged the blond man to just call it a night before he did something they’d both regret.

But Thompson’s eyes were beginning to lose their sharpness and it was replaced by something unnameable that Sousa couldn’t put to words.

Daniel wasn’t surprised when that grip suddenly tightened on his arm and Thompson suddenly leaned over, invading his personal space. He’d had a few men come onto him over the years, especially in the homoerotic driven confines of the army where you could go for weeks without seeing a woman. No one talked about it but there were queers everywhere, and in every walk of life. Some claimed places like the army just bred situational queerness and that normally morally strong men could fall temporarily into that sin because there were no other options available for them.

That he could forgive and even understand somewhat but this wasn’t the war. Thompson could have any dame he wanted with his handsome looks and charm. But here he was leaning in and pressing a kiss against Daniel’s cheek. He deliberately kept his face turned away so the other man couldn’t kiss him where he’d obviously been aiming for; on the lips.

“What the hell, Thompson. I’m not a queer!” Sousa hissed, shooting the other man a venomous look. It was tempting to clock him right on the jaw but Daniel restrained himself. It felt a little wrong to punch a drunken mixed up fella out even when that fella was Jack Thompson.

“Neither am I.” That…was a somewhat suspect statement to make considering the man was cozying up against him. “Well, not really.” Jack laughed then but it wasn’t a particularly pleasant laugh. The blond man was suddenly moving with far more grace than Daniel would have credited him with considering his obviously inebriated state and Sousa suddenly found himself with a lapful of drunken Jack Thompson. He automatically moved to shove him off so he could climb to his feet but Jack’s hands suddenly closed almost vice-like at the base of his skull, effectively trapping him there for a moment. “This isn’t about being queer, Sousa. The way I see it, we’re both hurting and lonely.”

“I like dames, asshole.”

“No, you like _Carter_. And who wouldn’t? She’s a hell of a woman.” Did Jack realize he was echoing the same words he’d used to describe his Gam-Gam? “Seriously, when was the last time you saw any action that didn’t come from your right hand, Sousa?” It was strange to be propositioned when the prick kept using his last name. “Relax, Sousa, I ain’t asking you to go steady. Way I see it, I owe you.” There was a reckless sort of gleam in Jack’s eyes now, something dark and not altogether pleasant. Daniel had seen that gleam before and it usually spelled trouble.

If he’d had any sense at all, he’d dump Jack’s ass on the ground or punch him and get the _hell_ out of here. But the sad truth of the matter was, it had been years since anyone but him had touched his body. Sousa had been too wrapped up in the war and a failing long-distance romance with his high school sweetheart turned last-minute fiancé to go skirt-chasing. He’d convinced himself he loved Eva enough that he’d wait for her. But then he’d been hit and when he finally got shipped home, Eva had never even once come to see him at the hospital.

He’d known the moment he’d seen the look of horrified pity on her face that she’d been unable to cope with the idea of a husband who came home from the war missing a limb. It had been crushing in its own way but Daniel hadn’t put up much of a fuss when she’d returned his mother’s ring with a lame excuse about how sometimes romance couldn’t withstand the distance.

After Eva it had been hard to even think about letting another dame warm his bed. Not that they were exactly lining up around the block to step out with a guy with a peg-leg. Not when there were hundreds of hale and hearty men out there to pick from.

Men like Jack Thompson. Daniel should have shoved him away and gotten the hell out of there but a part of him was still stinging from Peggy’s rejection earlier. She had been the first dame to catch his eye since Eva and Daniel had been holding a torch for her for months. But as today had proven, maybe it was all in vain; maybe she really couldn’t see him as an acceptable man. How could he hope to compete with the memory of Captain America?

“You don’t owe me shit, Jack,” Sousa finally said, hands coming up to that chest and fisting in his clothes as though unsure if he was going to shove Thompson away or yank him closer.

Jack must have seen something in Daniel’s face because he suddenly leaned forward to try and kiss Sousa once again. That had Daniel pushing him back away, the muscles in his jaw working and jumping as he ground his teeth.  
“No. You don’t get to kiss me,” Daniel finally growled; voice low and rough with something akin to anger. The problem was he didn’t know who he was angry at; himself or Jack.

Thompson smiled but it bordered on a sneer though his death grip on Daniel’s hair and skull loosened finally as he leaned back slightly. “Fair enough, it’s not like this is a date or anything.” He laughed and suddenly shifted once again, arms coming to land on Daniel’s thighs which he nudged apart as he slithered down onto the ground in front of him until he’d finally found a home between Sousa’s splayed legs.

His intentions were obvious and Sousa was ashamed of the fact that he felt his body begin to respond almost instantly. Unlike Jack, he didn’t have the excuse of a few bottles of alcohol obscuring his thoughts and morals. He’d barely drunk half his glass of whiskey and was in full control of all of his faculties. Daniel knew he should be ashamed of even entertaining this ridiculousness. But he could feel Jack’s hands skate along his legs and it had been so long since anyone had touched him that apparently he was touch-starved and randy enough he’d take a pity fuck from anyone.

Even Jack Thompson. God help him.


	3. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, thanks to everyone who commented and stuck around for my terrible posting scheduling. Note, same warnings from previous chapters carry over with additional warnings for slash and brief mentions of Daniel's bum leg as well as his internalized self-loathing. Also saliva is NOT an appropriate substitution for proper lubrication but this is Jack "Bad Life Choices" Thompson we are talking about. Poor Daniel. :|

_I ought to cross you off my list_  
_But when you come a-knocking at my door_  
_Fate seems to give my heart a twist_  
_And I come running back for more_  


* * *

 

“I do owe you, yanno. Well, maybe I’m just paying interest forward a bit because the next few weeks are going to be tough but if anyone can keep me honest and my head on straight, it’s you, Sousa.” It was almost obscene hearing his surname being uttered while Thompson finished stroking his hands upwards to his crotch only to squeeze his semi-hard dick through his slacks. But perhaps using his given name would have made this feel _too_ intimate. Like he’d said, this wasn’t a date.

“Are we seriously going to have this conversation right now, Thompson?” Mildly aghast, Daniel desperately reached for his discarded drink and swallowed it down in an attempt to just fog his brain up further so he wasn’t thinking about _this_ too much.

“What? Is there something else you’d rather talk about?” Jack asked, smirking just a little nastily as he moved to undo Sousa’s belt with surprisingly dexterous fingers considering his earlier clumsiness. His other hand was slowly stroking over Daniel’s hardening length through his trousers.

“Don’t be an asshole, Thompson.” The dark-haired man groaned, letting his head fall back to rest against the back of the settee so he didn’t have to watch Jack busying himself undoing his clothing.

“We could talk about your propensity for wearing the ugliest sweater vests known to man if you’d prefer? I’m confident enough to admit that’s when I started wanting to muss you up a little bit, when I saw how ugly your sweater vests are.”

“Thompson, so help me God, if you keep talking I’m going to punch you,” Daniel growled, head lolling forward so he could glare at the other man. Jack’s laughing eyes met his right before the other man leaned down and caught the zipper of Sousa’s pants between his teeth and started to inch it down slowly. The image was shockingly erotic and not one Daniel had been expecting. Perhaps that had been the point, maybe Thompson had been waiting till he was engaged in looking at him to pull that little stunt? He couldn’t tell and right now, he was beginning to wonder why he was analyzing things so much.

It did seem sort of ridiculous considering the circumstances.

At least some of the unbearable pressure on his dick was easing away somewhat now that his pants were loosened. He could feel Jack’s breath brushing up against him even through the thin material of his underwear. For years during the war, he’d worn the same standard-issue khaki underpants the Army had provided for everyone. He’d probably ridden around half of Europe with those boxers riding up inside his uniform pants. One of the first things Daniel had bought as soon as he’d been cashed out of the Army was a set of nice, American made jockeys in bright civilian white the likes of which were unheard of over on the front. Everything in the military had been utilitarian khakis and olive drab.

It had been nice to put aside OD and standard issue khakis. The change from military to civilian attire had helped to put him into the fresh mindset he’d needed to accept the fact that he’d been no longer in the military. Sousa found himself idly wondering what sort of under pants Thompson wore. If he too had sought to distance himself from his time in the military or if he still wore boxer shorts. Obviously he should have been paying attention whenever he walked in on the man changing in the locker room not too long ago but he’d been too consumed with the sight of Carter wearing nothing more than a skimpy black slip to pay attention to Jack or the other agents in the room.

Thompson was _finally_ drawing him out of his briefs with callused fingertips, baring him to the tepid air of the tiny apartment. Sousa felt almost like he was standing outside of his own body because the disconnect between the sight of the other man kneeling between his thighs, holding his dick barely even registered as reality to his mind. The whole thing had some curious surreal air to it like maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk and was just dreaming this.

"Huh, uncut. How'd you manage that in the Army?" Dear _God_ was he really asking him that right now? Jack nudged the foreskin back to reveal the flushed and leaking head of Daniel's cock before stroking his hands up and down the length almost lazily.

"Told them it was against my religion," Sousa managed to grit out somewhat tightly, eyes glued on the bead of pre-cum that welled up from the tip and threatened to roll down the side. The medics had urged him, citing dangers like phimosis and paraphimosis not to mention the higher likelihood of venereal diseases and all manner of other unsavory things. But Daniel had stubbornly refused, content in the knowledge that he wasn’t going to be visiting any brothels or sleeping with loose women so what did he have to worry about VD’s for? And he’d survived decades without any issues with his foreskin intact. It just hadn’t made any sense to him so every time a medic brought it up, he shot them down.

“Heh, nice. Shoulda thought of that myself.” That dark look of reckless intent was back in Thompson’s eyes as he slanted a look up the length of Sousa’s body and for one crystal clear moment, Daniel wondered if this was just some twisted way the other man was trying to self-destruct in a different way than just trying to ruin his liver. Jack didn’t exactly appear to _enjoy_ the proceedings or maybe it just wasn’t particularly fun to be on the giving end of a cocksucking. Sousa had never been in that position so he had no idea one way or another.

At last, the blond man finally moved into action by wrapping his fingers around the base of Daniel’s cock as a sudden wet heat closed over the head, and slid him further into his mouth. And he was left to stare at the almost alien sight in stunned silence as he watched himself disappear into the damp warmth of Thompson’s mouth.

Sousa had spent months fantasizing about different ways to make Jack Thompson shut the hell up when he was being particularly insufferable and usually those fantasies including a swift punch to the mouth or some other form of violence. But he might have just found his new favorite way of shutting Jack Thompson up right then and there.

He wasn’t comfortable examining his own moral standpoint on the subject to idly consider the idea of why he hadn’t come to this conclusion sooner. It was just too uncomfortable a thing to mull over even when the other man had his damned mouth on his dick. Because Sousa knew he wasn’t queer despite his current circumstances. He was just making do, that was all. Just like countless other men had during the war when there were few other options outside of your favorite hand to help ease the tension.

Judging by the way Thompson was neatly bobbing his head up and down along Daniel’s length, a nasty part of him wanted to ask if this was the first time the other had sucked a dick because he had the sneaking suspicion Thompson was no stranger to taking another man in his mouth. There was none of the amateur drooling or other signs of discomfort those who were unfamiliar with the mechanics behind a sucking cock.

Almost against his better judgment, Daniel’s hand rose to card through those soft looking blond strands. Whatever pomade Jack had used to style it hours—maybe years—ago had long since lost its hold leaving those short strands surprisingly soft to the touch and easily mussed.  
Thompson had nearly swallowed him down but barely seemed to have issues with the fact that Sousa’s cock was no doubt triggering his gag reflex and he just kept up that deliciously warm suction and teasing licks along the underside of Daniel’s cock on the upstroke.

“Christ, you’re good at that. Where did you learn to suck cock so well, Jack?” Daniel groaned, head falling back once more to stare up at the ceiling even as his fingers tightened in those short strands of blond hair.

Thompson finally did drag his mouth upwards until he let the tip of Sousa’s dick slip from his mouth. “I thought we decided on no talking?” Jack couldn’t help himself apparently and Sousa’s fingers just tightened almost painfully in his hair and tried to push him back down in a clear order to go back to what he’d been doing. Instead, Thompson flicked his tongue against the slit to gather up yet more pre-ejaculate that leaked from the head. Slanting a look up at Daniel from beneath his lashes, Jack toyed with the man’s foreskin with one hand, dragging it up and down over the head just for the novelty of it.

“Thompson,” Dark eyes slit open warningly.

“Anyone ever tell you that old proverb about patience being a virtue, Sousa?" Jack taunted, pointedly ignoring the way Sousa's fingers dug lightly into his scalp. Instead of taking the other man back into his mouth, he reached up to tug Sousa's pants down further and hooked his fingers under the edge of his underwear as well. "Lift up your hips a little."

Daniel gave him a suspicious look but levered himself up somewhat so Jack could slide his pants and underwear down further until they were sagging around his knees. This granted Thompson near full access to Sousa's genitals which he shamelessly exploited by leaning down to suckle one of his testicles into his mouth before moving onto the other.

It took Sousa a moment to realize just how vulnerable and exposed he truly was because Thompson was right on the level to see the edge of the prosthetic and the cuff that cinched it to his thigh where his leg abruptly ended in a mass of scar tissue. He knew it was an ugly sight and one that Sousa was deeply ashamed of so he kept it hidden from everyone.

Eva had nearly broken down into tears at just the sight of Daniel pinned up pants leg when he’d visited her the day he got out of the hospital. They hadn't even fitted him with a prosthetic by that point but the sight of those unshed tears in her eyes has told him she never would have been able to look at the angry red mass of scars and ruined muscles at the amputation site without being sickened by it.

Whether he realized it or not, Thompson was the first person who wasn't a nurse or a doctor who had seen Daniel so exposed and vulnerable since he’d come home from war missing more than half his leg. Sousa guiltily tried to tug his pants back up much to Jack's confusion. It was enough to drag him away from the dark-haired man's balls and he shot Sousa a questioning look.

"What?"

"Nothing," A flush that had nothing to do with arousal started to darken Sousa's cheeks. Jack's skeptical look pretty much said it all and he soothingly stroked the backs of his fingers along the insides of Daniel's thighs.

"Tell me what's wrong, Sousa. If you don't like something, you gotta let me know." Jack continued to stroke his fingers up and down the length of those splayed thighs and Daniel very nearly jumped out of his own skin when Thompson's hands dragged against the cuff accidentally. "What? Is it the leg?" Jack asked with a quizzical look when Sousa blanched. "Jesus, it is!"

Daniel was three seconds from following through on his first instinct which was to punch Thompson though that seemed just a bit déclassé when the other man he just been sucking his cock less than two minutes before. But like hell was he going to sit there and let Thompson make fun of him.

"Sousa? Relax, it's no big deal. Believe it or not, I already knew about the injury," Jack soothed with surprising insight considering it was _Thompson._ "It's no big deal, so don't make it into one, huh?"

The suspicious look of guarded wariness on Daniel's face might have been a little pitiable in other circumstances. But Thompson wasn't interested in helping Daniel Sousa to deal with whatever problems he obviously had with his self-image. Instead, he deliberately left one hand resting on the leather cuff strapped to Daniel's thigh and moved to lick a broad stripe up the underside of the other man's dick which had started to flag and soften as the situation took on a decidedly un-sexy quality.

Jack loosely wrapped his free hand around the base and stroked it lightly as he swirled his tongue along the glans teasingly until Sousa's eyes had dropped to half-mast. Sensing that Daniel was well on his way to being too distracted to care about his bum leg, Thompson slid his hand away from the prosthetic and moved to cup Sousa's balls lightly. He massaged them teasingly. One fingertip stroked the length of Daniel's perineum and he made a harsh sound of surprise and jumped.

Thompson cynically wondered if this was as close as anyone had ever gotten to the other man's ass. His reaction was sort of telling and because he was still a bit of a bully at heart, Jack lightly scraped one nail along that sensitive stretch of skin. If he'd thought he could get away with it, Thompson might have slicked up a couple of his fingers and showed Daniel a real surprise by introducing him to that bundle of nerves and gland deep inside.

But he knew if he even attempted that right now, Sousa would probably rabbit as fast as his gimp leg would carry him and he didn't want that. Not yet at least. Jack Thompson was a man on a mission now and he wasn’t going to stop till he had Sousa reduced to a wrung-out mess in his hands.

Daniel’s hand found its way back into Jack’s hair but this time he was just sort of carding his fingers through those blond strands softly rather than gripping at it aggressively. A soft groan escaped the dark-haired man when Jack did something especially clever with his tongue. That garnered him a rumbling sounding little laugh from the blond and the sensation of that sound seemed to travel right up his dick to the base of his spine in a pleasurable manner that had him gasping out loud.

The dual sensations of Jack’s mouth and oh so clever hands stroking him was swiftly bringing Sousa closer to completion than he’d thought possible. Daniel had never had another man suck his cock before but holy _God_. He wasn’t sure if it was because Thompson was a man himself and knew what felt good but he was far better at this than any woman had ever been. It was like Jack knew exactly which buttons to push to leave him breathless and skating the edge between too much and perfection.

Daniel had to look away again because the sight of Thompson with that damp mouth stretched around his length and the way his cheeks hollowed with each suck very nearly undid him. It was just by sheer happenstance that Sousa's eyes happened to alight upon the smiling picture of Thompson's grandmother sitting on the side table opposite the settee.

"Oh, Jesus." Daniel groaned and this time it wasn't from the mind blowing pleasure of Thompson's mouth bobbing up and down on his dick. "Your Gam-Gam has been watching us the whole damned time, Thompson," he hissed and Jack pulled away from his dick with an audible, wet, pop.

"What?"

Daniel just pointed at the photo with a mingled look of mortification and amusement on his face. Thompson twisted around and saw where Sousa was pointing and just started to laugh.

"You do know that's just a photo right, Sousa?"

"Of course I do! Doesn't change the principle of the matter."

"You're ridiculous. Did you know that?" Shaking his head with obvious exasperation, Jack stretched out and very gently placed the framed photo down. "There, is that enough or do I need go turn around all my other photos because they're looking at you as well?"

"Don't be an ass, Thompson." Daniel huffed, a flush starting to darken his cheeks. "Sorry if I have trouble with the idea of coming while your saintly grandmother smiles at me."

"Well, when you put it that way. Wouldn't want to scandalize Gam-Gam." Rolling his eyes, Jack reached out and wrapped his hand loosely around Sousa's length. "But seeing as how you've totally ruined the mood, I wanna try something but I don't want you to take my head off or freak out."

Dark eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

"Come off it, have I lead you wrong thus far?" Jack cajoled with another one of those charming little smiles of his.

"You mean as of late or just tonight?" Sousa asked, that suspicion mingling with disbelief in his tone.

"Now who is being the ass? Trust me, Sousa, you'll enjoy it. I promise." Thompson smiled and lifted a hand to his mouth and suckled a few of his fingers inside, getting them thoroughly moist with his own saliva. This would be easier with a proper lubricant but Jack wasn't getting up again.

Once he'd gotten his fingers well and truly slick, he withdrew them and moved to circle the tight pucker of Sousa's hole lightly. As expected, Sousa jumped and every muscle seemed to seize up instantly. "Relax, just relax."

He coaxed, bending his head to take Daniel in his mouth once more in an effort to distract him from the light pressure on his ass. Jack didn't push him too far, instead waiting for Sousa to get lost in the pleasure once more before he pressed that finger against Daniel's sphincter until he was able to sink his finger in slowly. The pressure and heat was unreal and it had Jack's cock which had been semi-hard for a while now perk up with interest. But this wasn't about him.

Maybe if managed to convince Sousa to compromise his morals for a second time he could try easing him into the idea of something a little bit more intense. Right now, he just wanted to demonstrate just what all he'd probably been missing out on so far because somehow he didn't think Daniel Sousa was the type to let his dame work her pretty little fingers up his ass. That seemed just a little too naughty for the likes of Sousa.

Truth be told, Jack hadn't expected him to let him get this far. He'd halfway expected to get his lights punched out when he'd first put the moves on Sousa but apparently he'd underestimated him. Or perhaps he'd simply underestimated how desperate and touch-starved the other man was. He waited for some of the vice-like pressure surrounding his finger to ease before Jack curled it inside, seeking out the sensitive gland deep inside.

He knew he found it when Sousa abruptly cried out in surprise and practically jumped off the settee. Thompson choked when his dick was suddenly driven up into his mouth and against the back of his throat suddenly. Jack pulled back slightly off the length of Daniel's penis until he only had the glans cradled in his mouth. Knowing he'd found the spot, he rubbed the pad of his finger over that gland repeatedly.  
Daniel's hands clenched at whatever he could find, the arm of the sofa and Jack's shoulder apparently and when he found his grip he bore down sharply.

"What—“ he asked brokenly, breathless surprise making his voice hoarse.

With some reluctance, Jack pulled away from Daniel's cock and grinned up the length of his body mischievously. "I told you it'd feel good. You okay, Sousa? Think you can keep up?" That was a blatant challenge more in keeping with how Jack normally acted. Apparently he was sobering up or maybe he was just starting to feel pretty confident about his skills considering he'd talked Sousa into things thus far.

"I can take anything—ugh—anything you can dish out, Thompson." That might have sounded more believable if he'd managed to make it through that statement without groaning in the middle of it.

Jack's smile turned predatory and he set out to bring Daniel off with a renewed intent. He was fully hard himself now and his own erection was starting to ache with neglected need but he ignored in favor of stroking his hand up and down Daniel's length as he continued to massage his prostate mercilessly. Pre-cum dripped from the slit and he gathered it up for extra lubrication as he stoked the other man with  
a tighter grip.

Thompson could have swallowed him down and let Sousa come in his mouth but he was sort of enjoying the mental image of him coming all over that ugly sweater vest instead. Besides, he'd never particularly enjoyed the taste of semen. He knew Sousa was close to coming and it only took a few more strokes of his hand and finger inside of Daniel to have the other man coming with a harsh sounding cry.

Cum spilled all over Sousa's stomach and Jack's hand but a few strands of that milky fluid ended up hitting him mid-chest and splattered all over that ugly sweater vest just like Thompson had hoped for.

He wondered just a little mockingly how long it would take Sousa to realize he'd ended up getting more of his cum all over himself than on Jack. The blond man made use of the distraction to carefully extract his finger from Sousa's ass and reached for the hanky he kept stashed in the front pocket of his jacket. He used it to wipe his hands clean before reaching for his discarded glass of whiskey which he finished off in a few gulps.

Jack dropped the handkerchief in Sousa's lap and climbed to his feet slowly, his knees aching protest the whole time because the floor was hardly the softest place to kneel down for any extended amount of time.

He walked into his kitchen and turned on the tap only to spot a stray dot of cum clinging to his wrist. Curiosity got the better of Jack and he licked it up because he wanted to know if someone as wholesome and upstanding as Daniel Sousa tasted somehow sweeter than other men. Sousa was a _good_ man and that was something Jack knew precious little about. A part of him wasn’t sure if he wanted to corrupt that goodness or he wanted to absorb it through some weird osmosis. So yes, a part of him had hoped that Daniel’s cum would be sweeter and somehow better than all the other semen he’d tasted in his time. The taste was different but still not the most savory of flavors. Curiosity fulfilled, Jack washed his hands with soap and water before reaching for a dish towel to dry them with.

"You still alive over there, Sousa?" he asked, shooting an amused look over his shoulder at the so far silent man. Jack moved to pick up the bottle of whiskey and carried it back with him so he could refill his glass without having to move again.

Jack didn’t know what he was expecting when he finally managed to get a peek at Sousa’s face but the shuttered, inscrutable look on his face wasn’t nearly as satisfying. Daniel was starting down at his sweater vest as he scrubbed at the material with the discarded handkerchief. Sometime in the past minute and a half he’d yanked his under pants and pants back up and looked semi-respectable aside  
from the slightly suspicious stains on his clothes.

“Don’t over think things, Sousa. This doesn’t mean we’re going steady or anything.” Thompson managed to fight the urge to roll his eyes again and poured two fingers into his glass. “It doesn’t make you a queer if you enjoyed having your cock sucked by another fella, I promise. You can still keep making doe-eyes after Carter without guilt.”

That earned him a dirty look from the other man. “Right, like you haven’t been panting after her either, Jack.”

“She’s a fine woman, why wouldn’t I? But unlike you, I happen to know she’s out of my class and deserves better than an asshole like me.” Jack smiled mirthlessly and took a sip from his glass, that bottle of whiskey still held in his other hand. “You staying for a refill? Maybe one more for the road?” He managed to make that sound suggestive and he knew Sousa caught his meaning by the way his cheeks started to turn red with embarrassment. He really was too cute when he blushed because it always seemed to start at those big ears of him and crawl downwards from there. Jack was painfully aware of his own erection now but he didn’t think Sousa was going to stick around long enough to help him out with that predicament. Regrettable but not so surprising even if it was taking just about every ounce of self-control he had not to reach down and stroke himself through his far too tight pants. He doubted Sousa would appreciate that sort of lewd behavior, never mind the fact he’d just had his mouth on the man’s dick he was probably just uptight like that.

A hostile look entered those dark eyes and Sousa grimly reached for his crutch which he’d rested against the side of the settee. “I think I’ve had enough.” He climbed to his feet and smoothed down his clothing; that discarded handkerchief falling to the ground in front of him. No amount of straightening could help mask the damp semen stains darkening that ugly sweater vest of his however and Thompson simply shifted to put his feet up on the settee where Sousa had been sitting a few moments before.

“Suit yourself. Want me to call you a cab?”

“No thank you, I’ll walk to the subway.” Sousa obviously was at a loss about what you were supposed to say to a guy who’d recently had his mouth on your dick. He settled for shooting Jack a tight-lipped look and limping for the door.

“Three blocks east and one block over. Though I’d recommend catching a cab, this neighborhood can be pretty rough after dark, Sousa.” Thompson called after him. He spied the still turned down photo of his Gam-Gam sitting on the table in front of the settee and leaned over so he could right it to its proper place once again. He silently toasted the photo with his glass before draining it once more.

“I can take care of myself, Jack,” Sousa growled and very nearly slammed the door behind him as he exited the apartment. For a few minutes, he'd been distracted from the near constant ache from a limb that no longer existed. Thompson had done a good job of taking his mind off his leg but now that he was back on his feet, the aching started up again.

What little peace he might have felt back in that apartment was fading away, leaving Daniel feeling worse than he had before. He wasn't a man given to romanticism or flights of fancy but Sousa figured it was a pretty good analogy for whatever had transpired in Thompson's apartment.

He wasn't looking forward to the six flights of stairs it would take him to reach the ground floor but the more distance he put between himself and that apartment, Daniel hoped it would help to put some of the doubts and questions swirling around his mind with that crushing amount of guiltily regret nipping at his heels to sleep.

Daniel didn't look back over his shoulder at the Jack's door even once and in that at least, he was somewhat proud of himself. It was the only part of the past hour or so he felt any semblance of pride over however.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, he took a deep breath and steeled himself before beginning the long journey down the steps, his crutch clicking rhythmically beside him the whole way.


End file.
